Share a photo of your commute.
The traffic always slows down to a crawl a kilometer or two before the highway interchange. Just off to the left stands this little, stone building, empty and decaying. The red leaves seperate the passers-by from the dried brown grass that surrounds the building on all sides. I often wonder, sitting in my secured, air-conditioned car, who lives there, when did he or she live there and why did they leave? There are no answers, just the annoyed, incessant honking of the traffic waiting to move forward, to move about their own lives.